The Heartless Alpha Just Wants to Follow the Plot - Chapter 61

Director Jiang nodded vigorously. “We know, we know. Don’t you worry; we’ll take excellent care of everything.”

Su Mo gave a slight nod. “Then I’ll thank you in advance.”

She then headed to hair and makeup to prepare for her upcoming scenes. Meanwhile, her bodyguards maintained order and security on set. As seasoned professionals, they made quick work of catching several people attempting to take unauthorized photos. Under the weight of their intimidation, the culprits deleted the photos immediately. Those who had been caught twisting words or spreading rumors were hauled off to issue formal apologies.

Watching this unfold, Director Jiang glanced at Su Mo, who was sitting nearby, lost in thought. After a moment, he walked over and sat beside her, lowering his voice. “I have another project lined up after this. Would you be interested in taking a role?”

Su Mo arched an eyebrow. “You’re not plotting something, are you?”

He hadn’t mentioned an invite before, and this sudden offer felt a bit too convenient to be purely professional.

Director Jiang was blunt. “I am.” He gestured toward her security detail. “I think your bodyguards are top-notch. I’d like to ‘borrow’ them for my next production.”

So, he was after her muscle.

“Director Jiang, they are professional drivers and bodyguards,” Su Mo said with a faint smirk. “Asking them to act requires a separate fee and that’s only if they’re willing. They don’t come cheap.”

Director Jiang’s expression didn’t flicker, but he pivoted the conversation. “To be honest, I haven’t secured all my investors yet.”

Su Mu: “…”

Her expression turned incredulous. “Now you’re asking me to fund it? That’s a bit much, Director Jiang.”

“You’re rich,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And you know I’m serious about my work. Everything I make is high-quality.”

This wasn’t an empty boast. His productions whether TV dramas or films were meticulously crafted from every angle, and the final products rarely failed to stun the public.

However.

Su Mo feigned hesitation. “While that may be true.”

Director Jiang patted his chest, guaranteeing her success. “Invest in me, and you’ll see a 100% return.” He let out a soft sigh. “My work has been popular these past two years, but that’s brought its own set of headaches. I don’t have enough ‘backing.’ I keep getting investors with bad intentions who try to shove people into my cast who don’t fit my vision. I need to find someone reliable.”

“You know how it is,” he continued. “Without a strong background, when people come at you with money and demands, it’s hard to say no.”

Su Mo straightened up, mentally tallying the deal. “So? You don’t just want my money; you want my influence and my presence in the cast.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? You get a free ride while I take the hit. Hmm?”

Director Jiang gave a dry laugh. “It’s not like that. Think about it you’re already wealthy, but there’s no harm in being wealthier, right? Who turns down more money? By helping me, you gain a reputation and a profit. Plus, I can help vindicate you. Your acting is actually quite good nothing like the trash they talk about on the Star Net. It’s a triple win.”

“It sounds decent enough,” Su Mo remarked, tapping the armrest as if weighing the options.

Director Jiang was genuinely anxious. A previous investor had been breathing down his neck, and he needed an out. He was planning to start filming by early next summer and couldn’t afford to be sabotaged by someone holding the purse strings.

Gritting his teeth, he held up three fingers. “If you invest, I’ll give you two audition slots for your agency and a role tailored specifically for you. How does that sound?”

He looked at her expectantly. For him, this was a premium offer. He trusted that Su Mo wouldn’t bring in “garbage” talent to ruin her own investment. Given her recent improvements and the talent of actors like Qiu Fu from her company, he was willing to bet on her.

Su Mo didn’t leave him hanging. She reached out and shook his hand. “Deal.”

Director Jiang exhaled in relief. With Su Mo as his primary backer, his financial woes were over. She was a “Golden Goose,” after all.

Just then, the final veteran actor arrived for a pivotal scene. An Rusheng was playing the manager of Su Mo’s “superstar” character. His role was to introduce the up-and-coming manager played by Miao Xiaoyu, serving as the catalyst for their meeting.

An Rusheng’s character was a “Gold Medal Manager,” a mentor to all in the industry with a legendary eye for talent earning him the nickname “The Star-Seeker.”

His arrival had been delayed due to personal matters, but since his cameo was less than a minute long, it wasn’t a major issue. Despite his legendary status, he didn’t put on airs. He immediately approached Director Jiang with an apologetic look. “I’m late, my apologies. Something came up at home and I couldn’t get away.”

Everyone knew An Rusheng had an only daughter. Years ago, while pregnant and traveling to find her husband, she encountered interstellar pirates. The trauma induced early labor, and because the pirates had hijacked the ship, she couldn’t reach a medical pod. She died of a massive hemorrhage.

His granddaughter, born prematurely, had been frail and sickly from the start. Despite An Rusheng’s meticulous care, she spent most of her life confined to a hospital ward. Had it not been for his friendship with Director Jiang and his granddaughter’s wish for him to pursue what he loved he never would have agreed to this cameo.

Director Jiang hurried to greet him, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We’re just about to start your scene. It’s an absolute honor to have you here.”

An Rusheng remained apologetic; he felt it was unprofessional to have accepted the role only to arrive late.

“Please, don’t feel that way,” Director Jiang insisted. “You have to believe us, everyone here genuinely admires you. Quick, makeup! Get over here and prep Mr. An.” He nudged the staff along, knowing that if they continued the polite back-and-forth, the schedule would fall apart. It was better to just get started.

Once the makeup artist led An Rusheng away, Director Jiang breathed a sigh of relief. He cast a grateful glance at his friend; without their help, he wouldn’t have known how to resolve this situation.

Su Mo and the others barely caught a glimpse of the legend before he was whisked away.

“It really is Senior An! I thought Director Jiang was bluffing.”

“Director Jiang must have incredible prestige to pull this off.”

“This is so worth it. Even if my character has no lines, just being in the same film as him makes me happy. He’s my idol!”

While the others chirped with excitement, Qiu Fu was speechless, her eyes shining with adoration for the man she had idolized since childhood. Seeing the spark in Qiu Fu’s eyes, Su Mo understood. She beckoned Pu Ying over, who crouched down beside her. “What is it?”

Su Mo leaned in and whispered, “Besides being born prematurely, does Senior An’s granddaughter have other health issues?”

Surprised by the question, Pu Ying nodded. “Yes. Apparently, it’s a heart defect. She was too young for surgery before, and a mechanical heart comes with severe long-term risks. They only have a twenty-year lifespan, and they haven’t found a compatible organic donor yet. That’s why she’s been living under constant medical supervision.”

Pu Ying’s expression clouded. “The situation has been deteriorating lately. If they don’t find a donor soon, they might be forced to go the mechanical route.”

A mechanical heart wasn’t like a natural one; it had an expiration date and offered only one chance. Twenty years was the absolute limit. The girl was only eight years old; even with a mechanical heart, she wouldn’t live past thirty.

Furthermore, once a mechanical heart was installed, an organic transplant became impossible. These devices required a special synthetic fluid rather than blood to maintain their rhythmic pulse. Consequently, the body would gradually stop producing blood, leading to cellular death. The host would become increasingly fragile until their systems ultimately failed. Many who received mechanical hearts committed suicide, unable to endure the slow decay. Often, they didn’t even make it to the twenty-year mark.

Su Mo frowned. She hadn’t expected the situation to be so grim. We’re in the interstellar era, she thought, how is this still an issue?

“And the donor heart?”

“Her heart type is very rare,” Pu Ying explained with a rare sigh. “They’ve been searching for eight years. Senior An isn’t as wealthy as he appears; between the medical bills, the bounty he put on the pirates who killed his daughter, and his habit of funding schools for children in impoverished star sectors, his savings are nearly gone.”

To make matters worse, his former son-in-law was a scoundrel who had embezzled a significant portion of his assets. Despite his own life being in shambles, he still did everything he could to help others. He was a truly remarkable man.

Su Mo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest. After a moment, she said, “Have our people look for leads on a donor heart. Also, check if there are any specialists who can help the child.”

Pu Ying hesitated. “You want to help him? Under what pretext? Even if we mean well, he might not accept it. He might even think we have ulterior motives or are trying to use this to leverage him.”

Su Mo’s gaze remained steady. “We shouldn’t let good people lose heart. We make money not just to enjoy life, but so that when we encounter someone in need, we have the power to extend a helping hand.”